So why am I ten feet under and upside down

@FitzDutiful

The den had been colder recently, and his belly hadn’t been quite as full. Mason trotted to the mouth of their dark and cosy home, and looked out at the stormy evening. It was late enough to be dark, so he knew he shouldn’t be awake. The wind lashed the trees outside until – with a tumultuous CRASH – one finally gave way. Mason’s ears flattened against his skull as he jumped from his skin, then flattened himself against the hard earth. A racing heart pounded within his chest, but no matter where he looked he couldn’t actually see the tree which had toppled. It must have been behind their den.

Frantic moments rushed by. All he could hear was the wind and the rain – minutes before that had seemed loud, but now it was a peaceful solitude in comparison.

Mason’s heart stilled to its normal beat. He padded one step closer to the edge, until the tip of his wet nose hovered over the threshold. Sullen drops poured down, running over the edge of his nostrils and streaming back across his muzzle. He immediately stepped back and sneezed.

Looking over his shoulder, he saw June was still sleeping softly, her peace not marred by this particular storm. For Mason it was the one inside which threatened to engulf him. Movement caught his eye as FitzDutiful’s ghostly figure cut a path through to meet his son at the den’s entrance.

Knowing he shouldn’t be up, Mason’s posture immediately shrunk submissively, and he watched his father approach carefully, unsure of the reaction he was going to receive. He doubted it would be terribly strict – Fitz was a doting father. He looked like a smaller version of his father in that moment, only peppered with dirt, and with a particularly wet nose.

“Papa, where is Mama?” His voice seemed small and lost, trembling in the darkness, barely rising above the level of the rushing rain.

FitzDutiful had been out searching for his mate, his equal, his alpha, all day. He had let it slide when she hadn't been around to help him decide who belonged where in the ranks and had howled them out by himself - he had hoped to do it together. He had thought that she would be with the pups but when he returned that evening they had been all alone, though thankfully Ryuu had looked after them.

It was a strange thing, for her to be gone. He had planned this months ago with Bindi, to run her out when the pups no longer needed her, and then had changed his mind. He had made her his equal, admitted his faults to her, and continued onwards. Maybe she couldn't deal with the fact that he had feelings (did have?) for Bindi. Despite the fact that he barely saw the woman any more she was still family and Raissa, he hoped, had accepted that.

But now she was gone, her scent had faded and he didn't even know how long ago it was that she had left. He couldn't distinctly recall the last time he had seen her be more than a ghost at the edge of his vision and his children couldn't be expected to know time like that yet.

The rain had soaked FitzDutiful through but he had been back before the storm and, now, the movement of his son caught his attention. He looked over before going to the young boy. The tricoloured patches on his son's fur looked so much like his mother's that the words caught in FitzDutiful throat and he had to swallow a few times. How did he tell Mason that his mother might never return, that this was one problem his father couldn't fix? They ideally still needed milk, or so FitzDutiful thought, but now there was no choice in the matter. They would have to survive on meat alone for that was all anyone could give them.

"I don't know, Mason." he said, gently, wondering how much the little prince would understand of this dilemma. "I'm sure she'll come back when she can." If she wants to. "You'll be okay though," he tried to reassure his favourite son. "You've got me and Ryuu and Chaska and Bindi." At least he hoped they had Bindi, she had told him once upon a time that she would be like a mother to them - had he ruined that too?

Papa looked at him with gentle, soulful eyes. The glimmer seemed duller than it had a few days before, that day when he had agreed for Mama to lead alongside him. They had explained it to Mason. He simply knew that dad was Big Boss of the mountain and could get rid of wolves who were trespassing on the borders. He didn’t know the intricacies yet. Where he had been able to apply FitzDutiful to two roles – doting father and stern bossman - to Mason, his Mama had always simply been Mama. A warm body with a great heart who smelled of milk and sweetness.

His father’s words cut into his speculations. Papa didn’t know where she was. A coppery taste blossomed on Mason’s tongue as panic threaded through his body, creeping along his veins. Mama was gone.

Although his father looked sad, he did not looked worried. Mason clung to that desperately, trying to raise his emotions to match his father’s. Maybe this was normal, and maybe she would just reappear in a few days with a large rabbit clasped in her jaws. Ryuu and Chaska seemed okay, Bindi he had not seen much at all, but they were not quite the same as Mama. Not right now.

But as FitzDutiful pointed out, they still had their father. Mason’s feathery soft tail gave one tiny wag. “Got you,” he echoed softly, stepping forwards and lifting his head so that he could bump his wet nose against the underside of his dad’s chin. “An' Joo,” he added, looking across at his sleeping sister with glistening eyes. He heaved a huge sigh.

“What that?” He turned his face back to the storm and the torrential rain. He meant the sounds of the trees crashing, but he could have meant the storm in general.

It seemed though FitzDutiful's simple statement freed Mason of whatever burden he was feeling - or maybe that was just FitzDutiful not understanding a child's mind any more. Either way, all FitzDutiful knew was he wished that he could sigh off what had occurred as much as Mason had and be distracted as easily.

Not long after another clash and bang echoed out from the storm and Mason enquired as to what it was. Another tree was felled and FitzDutiful peered into the pouring rain, hoping that his pack were all safely in their dens and not out amongst the forest in his summer storm. "It's a storm, Mason." FitzDutiful explained gently. He didn't want his child scared of the thunder, but at the same time he needed to be sure that he had respect for the dangerous aspects of nature.

"Sometimes the sky grows dark and the air grows hot and it begins to rain. This combination causes great sparks in the sky that attack the earth. It causes trees to fall and can be dangerous if you don't find a safe cave quickly."

FitzDutiful had also experienced this when the rain didn't fall and the great sparks caused flames to sprout from the trees they hit instead, but that seemed too complicated to explain at the moment.

The summery storm was a thing Mason had not really experienced before. Whether it had been there were none in his early childhood, or perhaps simply when his eyes and ears were still closed off from the world. The word ‘storm’ did not quite fully match this assault on his senses. The word should be RidiculouslyLoudWetThing.


Mason listened to his father’s words carefully and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He didn’t know what a spark was, but maybe his dad meant to say Star.

“So…” Mason surmised quietly, “cos me an’ you and Joo in den, we’re okay?” 


He turned his head to stare out at the rain again and shivered, edging towards the paler adult wolf who still showed remarkable similarities to his son.

Mason seemed to understand the danger and edged closer to him, FitzDutiful happily lifted a paw to pull his son under his front legs, providing him extra shelter and security. His heart felt like it was going to explode as the love and affection for his son expanded as it always did when he took a moment to appreciate the time he had with him.

"Yes, we're safe. As long as you're with me I'll protect you." The only thing that could possibly go wrong here was a tree falling across the gap at the entrance. It was partly covered already so that the wolves could exit without exposing themselves completely, and the likelihood of something falling both exits to the den was minimal.

"Sometimes it's better to think about what you want to do than what's currently happening. So what do you want to do when the sun comes up from its bedtime?" he asked, curious as to what adventures would whirl through Mason's mind.

Mason’s tail waggled with relief, thumping against the compact earth of the den. He peered up at his Papa from between his front legs – all he could see from this position was Dad’s chin. Grey much like Mason’s, but not tinted with age.

When Fitz asked Mason Virtue what he wanted to do when the sun emerged, his ears tipped upwards again and he became chipper. Thoughts of his missing mother forgotten for the moment, his one-track mind reeled off what he wanted to do with ease.


“I wanna gerrup an’ chase Joo. ‘N’ then I wanna play in water puddles! An’ then eat a rabby. An’ then can yoo take me hunt’n? An’ then do dancin’.”

Mason giggled happily.

Take him hunting? FitzDutiful had completely forgotten that things like this he needed to teach his offspring. He was the only one responsible now, now that she was no longer here. The wound opened once more and rubbed raw for the briefest of moments before he internally sealed it once again. There would be a time for healing that properly, but the time was not now.

It occurred to Fitz that his pack might be willing to help further the children's horizons, to open their eyes to new things - new events and new experiences that would produce well rounded wolves that could do many things in their future. He mentally noted to call the pack together soon and get the ball rolling.

"I'll take you hunting soon," he promised his son, slowly lowering his large frame to the floor so he could gain better contact with Mason. It was difficult him being so small. "But dancing? Why do you want to dance?" he asked, slightly confused as to what wolf dancing was. Was this some sort of skill - had Raissa taught him - or was this another game that his imaginative son had developed?

When his Dad lowered himself to the floor, Mason shifted slightly to allow room, then honed in to press his fur against Fitz’s. He reveled in the warmth his father provided, something that Mason loved to feel. A real heart beating close to his and the scent of family. These were things that Fitz could provide like no other, and they were perhaps more important than anything else.

The promise elicited a nod. Hunting sounded fun and he loved the idea of hunting beside his Dad. He had no idea yet just how hard it was, and how often it was fruitless. Soon enough his fanciful visions would be dashed, but for now they kept him entertained in the long hours when his Dad was gone from the den.

Dancing? Dad had to know what dancing was. Mason didn’t know who had applied the word to his movements or when. All he knew was that for as long as he had known he could dance. “Like this!” He exclaimed in a shrill voice, and he began jigging away from his father, paws flailing left and right, up and down, tail spinning, ears wiggling, body moving high and low. Pirouettes and leaps brought his breath tumbling from him in a frenzy. Pink tongue began to loll as he danced away from his father to the very edge of the cave (carefully avoiding Joo) before he began prancing back with similar movements.

No music required; Mason could dance with the best of them, acapella. 

His son showed him that this dancing was and FitzDutiful recognised, though he had never partook in it personally. He just assumed it was something Raissa had taught him though whether he was thankful for it, he could not say. It wasn't something a wolf should be seen doing but then his boy was young. Regardless, he let none of this emotion show on his face. Instead a blissful smile came over him.

At the earliest possibility, however, he decided enough was enough and that Mason really needed more things to do in order to remove this dancing attraction from him. Telling his son that it was time for sleep, he hoped the youngster wouldn't pick up on his father's uncertainty at this skill, for lack of a better word. He didn't want the boy to feel unloved or that he had to give up something his mother had given him but if Raissa had taught Mason this - thing, then FitzDutiful wanted it to stop. Now.

"Everything will be better in the morning," he whispered as he lay down near his small, precious bundles and fell into a restless sleep.

Unbeknownst to Mason that his father thought his dancing was something he should not be doing, he continued to frolic, as most young children did. Call it dancing or skipping, it was the same thing, and he had done it for most of his childhood inadvertently, simply because he was happy.

It wasn’t long, however, before he was tired. His father clearly picked up on the mood, as he nudged his son back towards June. Mason smiled and flopped down next to his sister, resting his paw against her back. Dad lay close by, his warmth spreading to tickle Mason’s fur. The boy smiled, and eased into slumber as only the innocent can.